


don't get cut on my edges

by samedifference61



Series: Infinite [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Mind Reading, Secret Marriage, Snoke Ships It, Starkiller Base, come shots, pre tfa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 23:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samedifference61/pseuds/samedifference61
Summary: For theKylux Cantinaprompt: Secret MarriageFollows the events of:Infinite.These are the facts: he wears this ring as part of a spiritual marriage ritual, Kylo Ren has one to match, and Hux hasn’t removed it since receiving it. Hux has always hated leaving things unsettled.





	don't get cut on my edges

**Author's Note:**

> More secret marriage fic!! Now with added angst and sex (because that's inevitably where my mind goes). I owe [gamebird](http://gamebird.tumblr.com/) credit for some of the headcanons for this one and thanks to everyone here and on tumblr for keeping my interest in this silly 'verse. I would recommend reading the first part before this one.

> _The distance between us—it sharpens me like a knife._

After awhile, the weight of the ring becomes a part of him, only noticed when Hux removes his gloves at the end of shift and can see it, the colored glass glittering against the silver band.

Except that’s not entirely true, because out of sight does not mean out of mind. Not always. When he’s busy, yes, but the memory, the reminder, tends to stab at him when he doesn’t expect it.

These are the facts: he wears this ring as part of a spiritual marriage ritual, Kylo Ren has one to match, and Hux hasn’t removed his since receiving it. Hux has always hated leaving things unsettled, half-formed or unfinished. Something about this disaster of a situation still needs tieing off. It’s been left to fester and occupy thoughts that should be spent on strategy, on plans for Starkiller, and all of this has inevitably bred resentment and anger.

Something must be done.

Hux won’t ask Ren about it, decides if Ren can brush it off, not give it another moment of his time, he can too. He doesn’t _need_ to know if Ren still wears his own ring beneath his left glove. There’s far too much work to be done to bother thinking about something so ineffectual.

No, that’s not true either. Hux _wants_ to know, but would sooner take a blaster to his kneecap than ask.

“The book contains a map for Galea,” Ren declares a week after their misadventure. They haven’t crossed paths more than once or twice in passing aboard the Finalizer, and Hux wouldn’t say he’s avoiding Ren, but he’s been careful not to seek him out either.

Hux waits for further explanation, because it feels as though Ren is continuing a conversation they had weeks ago, one that Hux hardly remembers, if it happened at all.

He raises his eyebrows when Ren just stares back, mask a blank expression that annoys Hux more than ever. It’s impossible to go back to speaking to Ren’s mask now that he knows fifty percent of the conversation is lost when he’s unable to read Ren’s litany of betraying facial expressions. Of course, that’s likely the reason he wears it in the first place, plus there’s the added bonus of instant intimidation—but surely they’re past that now. Ren would even admit to it if Hux pressed him.

There’s a huff from behind the mask before Ren reaches up to unlock it and pull it away, lets it fall to Hux’s desk with a heavy thud. They’re alone in Hux’s offices where Ren knows the entrance codes and stopped bothering to ask before entering months ago.

Hux straightens in his chair, caught off guard. These conversations are very different when the mask is taken out of play, somehow made more intimate. This is exactly what Hux wanted, to have a conversation without the mask between them, he reminds himself.

Ren leans forward, braces his arms on the desk, trying for intimidation in a different way. “The map,” he growls, “from the book we recovered?”

“Yes,” Hux agrees. “I had gathered that much, but the rest is still a cryptic, indecipherable mess. If you would indulge me by explaining with more than five words a time, I may be able to answer the immediate questions I have, beginning with: why, where and most importantly:  _when_. That way I can plan for the course of action best suited toward keeping this entire military operation in order.”

The attempt to intimidate without the helmet is less effective when Hux can discern when Ren is actually angry and when he’s simply _trying_ to be angry for the sake of consistency. This appears to be the latter.

Hux leans back in his chair, folds his arms at his chest. “I’ll wait,” lip curling into a warning sneer.

Ren leans forward, gripping the desk, his weight on his forearms now.

Hux stares at Ren’s left hand, trying to make out the edge of the silver band, but of course Ren’s gloves aren’t tight enough to allow for such a distinction to be made for sure. It occurs to Hux he doesn’t know what’s more horrifying: if they’re both still wearing the rings beneath their gloves, or if Hux is wearing his while Ren isn’t.

_Damn it all._

Because this is the kind of nagging thought pattern that has consistently derailed him in the last dozen cycles.

“I’m leaving at 0800,” Ren begins, and Hux shifts his focus back to Ren’s words. “I’ve already asked for my Command Shuttle to be made ready. I’m taking Phasma and a squad of ‘troopers with me. I’ll be gone for an undetermined length of time, but likely around fourteen cycles if everything goes according to estimates. Ready your plans. Snoke expects everything in order for Starkiller when I return with the prize.”

“Yes,” Hux confirms, failing at keeping the satisfaction from his voice.

Finally some good _fucking_ news.

Hux has been ready his whole life for Starkiller. There’s nothing to be made ready. The planet in the Unknown Regions has already been selected—an abandoned, frozen and hollowed out world once mined for Kyber Crystals in the days of the Galactic Empire. The architecture and schematics of the base are finished. Budgets for personnel as well as sentinel droids allocated to the project are recorded and checked against feasibility in keeping the rest of the fleet mobile and ready to defend the planet. Notices for relocation, as well as resource delivery to the specified coordinates, will begin as soon as Snoke gives the word, as soon as Ren successfully returns with a way to pay for the needed resources.

Ground construction of Starkiller will begin _tomorrow_ if Hux is given the go ahead.

And then it occurs to Hux that Ren made a special point of telling him all of this when they’ve scarcely seen each other lately. Hux could have easily read through transport and operations logs for the day, as he usually he does, and followed up with Phasma for any necessary details. There was no need for Ren to deliver this information in person.

Hux narrows his eyes, puzzled. “You’ve told me this in person. Why?”

Ren looks stricken by the question, like it hadn’t occurred to him.

“I’m leaving. Was that not made clear?”

“You’ve never bothered informing me of your comings and goings according to Supreme Leader’s needs. Why now? What’s changed?”

Hux knows this line of questing will likely lead to suffocating pressure at his neck, or dismissal, or belittling.

In the end, Ren only shouts, “ _Nothing_ has changed,” while grabbing his mask and securing it in place before Hux can make out his expression hidden in the shadows and the sweep of his black hair.

He’s stalking from the room before Hux can take a proper breath, let alone decide what else he could say to keep Ren near. Proximity makes his rib cage fill with warmth, that same protective energy flooding him as it did in the temple, and Hux won’t deny it any longer. Ren has affected him, _infected_ him somehow.

“No,” Hux protests, a single syllable uttered to a silent room. He fists his left hand hard enough feel the metal cut into his fourth finger.

No, absolutely _everything_ has changed.

* * *

Three cycles later, Hux receives a comm message from an encrypted source. It only says: _why do you still wear it_

It figures Ren would crack open this very delicate conversation with the question Hux has been plagued with for weeks, but has been too stubborn to ask outright.

This is his chance to speak the truth, to let his frustrations unload rather than keeping them close to his chest where they’ll surely drown him, but it hardly makes sense to give Ren the satisfaction of knowing he’s managed to get so far under his skin. Not yet.

 _Have you achieved your objective yet?_ he sends back, ignoring Ren’s question entirely, secretly pleased with his own self restraint.

Ren doesn’t send another message right away.

It irritates Hux.

There are reports to read while he’s sequestered in his rooms for the night shift, awake enough to read reports only by the grace of his strongly-caffeinated tea. Hux’s mind is going wild with possibilities. Sleep has not come easily in Ren’s absence. It never has for Hux, but this is a different kind of weariness. There’s something off, something wedged deep inside himself where Hux can’t dig it out.

Ren said this Partnership Bond would mean nothing once they left that ancient planet. That assessment appears to be false on multiple levels.

While he’s alone and restless and seething over Ren’s lack of communication, he decides to use his own resources to pull up information on this spiritual marriage and the Overseers of Ra’ah to see if there’s any additional information he can gather in Ren’s absence. He doesn’t need Ren’s all-knowing Force abilities to do _actual_ research. Maybe this will also convince himself he’s not slowly going insane.

 

> _The Overseers of Ra’ah are an ancient order of species inhabiting the planet of Ra’ah Lo found in the western quadrant of the Outer Rim, loyal to the Galactic Empire since its inception... The marriage bond is spiritual in nature, and holds no significant legal status within the First Order... These symbolic ceremonies have largely waned in popularity after their peak in the last days of the Galactic Empire..._

Hux reads on but doesn’t find anything of significance beyond what he already knows. It doesn’t matter. Instead of asking outright, he decides to upload every bit of information he finds to Ren’s personal data storage aboard the Order’s Holonet. The feed is encrypted, but while Hux allows Ren access to his office override code, Ren has allowed him to hack into his personal Holonet. It wouldn’t matter if he changed the frequency settings. Hux is fairly certain he knows more about security encryption than Ren does, and could easily break whatever Ren managed to put into place.

He’s not sure if any of this will even reach Ren. His location is remote so the Order Holonet will be less reliable, but he should be able to connect through the Command Shuttle, where the main system controls satellites will reach as far as the Outer Rim.

Ren replies back while Hux is failing miserably at translating an Ancient Corellian text about the Ra’ah into Standard.

_stop sending me your pulp garbage. you wont learn anything that way_

Hux has sent him twenty three data files over the last thirty minutes, most only tangentially related to their situation and designed to overload and annoy Ren more than anything else.

 _answer my question and ill tell you what i know,_ Ren continues.  _._

Hux hates him for holding back, for using information to blackmail him into answering personal questions. It’s possible Ren knows as much about what’s happened to them as he does—meaning very little, but Hux doesn’t think he’s prepared to wait out Ren’s bluff, if that’s indeed what this is.

He decides sending Ren an intentionally obtuse answer is a good middle ground.

 _I wear it because it belongs to me,_ Hux sends and throws his comm down on the sofa, runs his hands through his hair and blinks down at it waiting for the reply. It’s absurdly below him in every way. All of this.

 _you wear it because you cant take it off,_ Ren sends back, and Hux abhors Ren for being just as obtuse.

There isn't some magical spell binding the ring to his finger. He could slip it off if he wanted. Hux takes the ring between the fingers of his right hand, twists it until it’s free of his knuckle just to make sure. No, that’s ridiculous. Of course he can remove it if he wants, but there’s also this empty loneliness sinking into his middle, an almost-panic at the thought of removing it, at the thought of Ren being so far away for ten more cycles. He slides the ring back on and lets a breath out he didn’t realize he was holding.

It’s not physical, so Ren must be implying it’s a mental refusal to remove it, a sentimental connection to a trivial bit of metal. That’s—maybe more truth than Hux is prepared to admit to himself.

 _Should I remove it?_ he sends back, jabbing at the send with more force than necessary. Ren doesn’t reply right away, so Hux huffs and throws his comm down in frustration once his vision is going blurry from staring at it.

He nearly comms his Communications Commander to translate the Corellian text for him before he remembers the sensitive, highly personal nature of the information he’s seeking. Ren, of _fucking_ course, can read and speak Ancient Corellian fluently.

He pours himself a healthy serving of brandy from the flask in his desk drawer, leaving the comm on the sofa.

His comm buzzes after a while, just as Hux has settled back into reading his reports. Hux downs the last of his drink before he reads it.

 _No,_ is all it says.

That’s fine. Hux wasn’t planning to remove the ring anyway.

* * *

_this energy binding us is outside my knowledge of the force_

Hux stares at the message in disbelief. Ren has just willingly admitted to this being beyond his understanding. Hux is on the bridge while he’s staring at this message, trying to decide what to say in return, and it takes Lieutenant Treva from Navigation asking her question twice before Hux registers she has spoken to him.

 _when i return we’ll try breaking it,_ Ren sends before Hux decides on his reply. Hux is sure Ren hasn’t a clue about how to do that.

The Overseer had said the bond is for life.

There’s also a question here Ren isn’t asking, so Hux will have to ask it for them both.

Hux sends, _Is that what you want?_ while his hands are shaking just slightly, afraid his answer is different from Ren’s answer.

 _No,_ Ren replies back immediately.

* * *

They talk very little about personal matters in the cycles that follow.

Ren is preoccupied with leading his team, ensuring the mission is successful, while Hux has his own duties to attend to. A star destroyer doesn’t run itself.

Hux monitors Ren's Command Shuttle closely though and knows precisely when they’re again at hyperspace, making their way back to the Finalizer. Ren’s mission logs classify the extraction as _successful with few casualties_ , and Hux eagerly sends these detailed reports on to Supreme Leader Snoke.

Hux is there to meet Ren when he exits the Command Shuttle and dismisses the weary stormtroopers flanking him. Captain Phasma’s ship will land in a few short minutes.

“You’re early,” Hux says, filing into step with Ren as they leave the transport hanger together, en route toward the lift. Snoke’s ancient treasure is aboard, and it’s enough to begin work on Starkiller almost immediately. The crews working to offload it from both ships and store it for Supreme Leader’s inspection will be busy into the third shift.

“Supreme Leader has requested your audience in two hours.”

The doors to the lift slide closed and there’s a moment when Hux’s heartbeat picks up, when he’s almost ill with doubt—what if? What if it were all a lie? _What if?_

“Good,” Ren says as his gloved hand closes around Hux’s wrist, squeezing with intention.

Hux stays still, unwilling to break this pattern or get ahead of himself. They stare straight ahead at the flash of lights bringing them to the level where Ren’s living quarters are located.

Ren wedges his fingers inside Hux’s left glove enough to slide it down from his hand, peeling it off like he’s revealing something precious. Hux blinks down at the ring, uncovered and more beautiful than Hux remembers it this morning. Keeping his eyes on the ring is easier than looking at Ren’s face. Hux’s emotions are set to betray him while Ren’s expressions will still lay hidden behind the mask.

“I knew you kept it on this whole time,” Ren whispers, voice distorted behind the vocoder. Hux doesn’t want to have this conversation with Ren's mask.

“It’s hardly fair that I should—” but Hux stops because Ren is unlocking his helmet and letting it fall to the ground with the heavy clank of metal on metal. Ren lets out a great breath, and then he’s reaching for Hux by the lapels and hauling him forward like it takes barely a quarter of his energy to physically move Hux to the exact place he needs him.

Hux braces himself for a bruising kiss or a fist in his face, but when neither come, Hux makes this embarrassing sound in his throat, barely a whimper for the torment of not knowing, for being spread bare with nothing solid to hold onto in return.

If Ren notices, he doesn’t say anything, just gets close enough that Hux can count the beads of sweat gathered at his nose, catalogue the exact shade of deep brown rimming his pupils, and smell his unwashed skin covered in Outer Rim scum and salt. There’s fresh purple-black bruising along the bridge of his nose and under his eyes, probably from the impact of his helmet after falling or suffering a heavy blow. Whatever happened to retrieve the treasure, the opposers put up a fight.

 _You should see the other guy_ , Ren sends telepathically using the Force and Hux feels the echo hum along his insides, leaving pleasant warmth to settle over him.

“Do it again,” Hux says before he can think about what he’s saying.

 _I missed you,_ Ren indulges, and chases it with a cool blue flash of sincerity and longing that makes Hux shiver. Emotional impressions to compliment his words. That’s certainly new.

Hux touches the bruises with the tips of his fingers, and Ren’s eyes close, mouth parted just slightly in an unexpected moment of patience, lets Hux admire the tactile evidence of his victory. Hux can only imagine the dismembered state the bodies of the fallen opposers must be in, probably at the bottom of some chasm to keep the aesthetic intact. The theatrics will work to their advantage, at least.

Ren reaches for Hux’s hand, presses a kiss to his palm, nose nuzzling against the metal of the ring. They linger there, trapped halfway between where they’ve come and where they’re going— when the lift doors swish open with a sharp ping. They’ve arrived at their destination.

In a panic, Hux reaches blindly behind him, slams his fist against the control panel and hopes he’s hit the right button. He knows he has because the doors slam closed again and the lift hovers there, silently waiting for further instructions.

A few more moments. Just a few more.

Ren is giving him this half-smile now, eyes flitting along Hux’s body in a way that has Hux craving more. Ren obliges, presses up close until Hux is backed into the corner, two big hands closing around Hux’s hips, face rubbing into Hux’s neck without regard to his unclean state.

There’s a wild moment where he thinks about letting Ren press him back along the wall of the lift, fuck into him with his ankles pressed up along Ren’s back, his trousers shoved down to his ankles, and he must be thinking this rather loudly, because Ren growls to let him know he would, that he wants that too.

They stare at each other, a breath away from kissing, Hux’s ring pressed along Ren’s neck where he’s still holding on.

_What have you done to me, you insufferable human disaster?_

The lift beeps a second warning, jarring them away from the dreamy reverie. Ren stares at the ceiling like he’s trying to work out the exact mechanics of stalling the lift with the Force without killing them both in the process, and that gives Hux a moment to reassess, to think though this more logically. He can’t just disappear for awhile, neglect his work, destroy a lift in the process, and forget the duties required to launch Starkiller as soon as possible. Snoke would know his focus has drifted and Hux would regret it, would resent Ren for it as well.

They need distance until they can work out how to find balance. This blurred line between personal and professional will not be Hux’s demise, no matter how tempting a prospect.

“I have shift. I’ll—”

“Find me after,” Ren finishes his thought, half muffled into Hux’s skin while he’s scraping his teeth along Hux’s pulse point in a way that has Hux arching back with his mouth embarrassingly wide.

He’s surprised when Ren lets it go so easily. It’s not until he’s alone in the lift and it’s taking him to the bridge, that Hux notices he’s still missing his left glove, and the ring is left shining against his bare finger for all to see. The glove is not in the lift any longer.

_Damn him._

Ren must have taken it with him, shoved it beneath his tunic like a token from a conquered whore. Evidence of Hux’s weakness.

Hux swears, adding a few colorful words from Arkanisian to punctuate his anger when he exits the lift into a busy corridor just outside the bridge. The surrounding lieutenants and ‘troopers give him a wide berth as he tears though the hallway en route to the bridge. Hux could march himself to laundry services, or demand one of the bridge crew fetch him new ones, or better yet— he could go straight to Ren’s quarters right now and demand the glove back.

_No._

That’s exactly what Ren wants from him.

In a moment of pure defiance, he yanks the remaining glove off and shoves it in his pocket. He’ll be on the bridge today without his gloves, and he’ll court marshal anyone who questions the ring still shining brightly upon his finger.

* * *

The doors to Ren’s quarters slide open before Hux is able to try his luck with hacking the override code. Hux stomps through, fully intending to lay into Ren for taking his glove.

“That foolish prank is inexcusable. If anyone questions this.” Hux holds up his hand, and Ren smiles at him, boyish and hopeful from the bed, eyes heavy with sleep. He looks pleased about getting Hux worked up over this. “If they connect me to you. If they know we’re _married._ If Snoke—”

“Snoke already knows,” Ren mumbles into the blankets where his messy, damp hair is covering most of his face. He’s showered and clumsily applied a bacta compress to his upper right shoulder. Hux didn’t know he was wounded there as well. The bruising around his nose looks worse now that his skin is clean. It’s shiny with bacta, Hux notes.

“He _knew_ this would happen?” Hux asks, terrified and confused of the answer. Why would Snoke let something like this go on for so long? Hux suddenly feels as though he has no control over any of this, like Snoke has pulled the strings all along, like he’s kept him as a pet to satisfy the needs of his apprentice. How did Hux ever think he had any agency in this at all?

“Hux,” Ren breathes, reaching a hand from under the blankets toward him, and the ring, _Ren’s ring_ sparkles in the light, and catches Hux by surprise, his mouth falling open.

He’s wearing it. He was _always_ wearing it.

“Hux,” Ren pleads, and Hux has to blink a few times to refocus. “I’ll tell you everything you want to hear, just. _Come here._ ”

That’s all it takes to forget how angry he was. In a daze, Hux shrugs off his greatcoat and lets it fall to the floor. He kneels on the bed before peeling his boots off, feeling the tilt of his world resettle into this new reality.  

Hux repeats, “Snoke knows,” just to make sure he heard correctly. This is probably something they should discuss if they both mean to survive through the cycle.

“It amuses him,” Ren shrugs, sitting up. “He doesn’t understand human emotional connection, therefore this part of it is meaningless. He thinks the Partnership Bond might be useful to me, make me stronger somehow.”

“I won’t be his lab rat,” Hux spits out, half expecting to be struck down for even voicing such a thought.

Ren sighs, implying they already are lab rats, both of them. “You’re here because you want to be. So am I.”

The second boot is barely off before Ren is hauling him forward so they’re chest to chest on their sides. Hux is still clothed, while Ren has only a pair of black briefs on beneath the blanket. Ren’s big hands find their way up and under Hux’s uniform shirt, pulling his undershirt free from his trousers so he can get at Hux’s skin. He’s so warm, solid, and Hux can’t help but melt into the powerful lines of his body.

The first tentative slide of lips against lips feels like something Hux has waited an eternity to experience. Ren is imprecise, but his enthusiasm is intoxicating, building an urgency within Hux to match. Hux just holds on, lets Ren undress him, fingers fumbling over the clasps of his shirt, the button of his trousers, lets Ren slide all of his clothing off until they’re kissing again, chest to chest, with Hux’s fingers deep in the damp strands of Ren’s hair. His clean skin smells of soap and shaving cream and the aseptic tang of bacta spread over fresh wounds.

“Why does it feel like this?” Hux whispers to the ceiling while Ren is leaving a neat row of bruises sucked into the skin of his collarbone. “Like I want to crawl inside you and not come up for air even if it kills me? Is it like that for you? How do we _survive_ this?”  

“I don’t want to survive this,” Ren says, not helpful in the slightest. He maneuvers Hux on his back and trails lower while Hux is laminating his very existence, how absurd it is to be found in this precise moment with the one he would have considered his rival only a month ago. “I’ve thought about this everyday I was gone.”

Perhaps they’re still rivals. Perhaps that part of their relationship will remain constant, just as everything else shifts around them. Maybe they’ll still kill each other at the very end, just as Hux has predicted from the beginning, and this is just an extremely pleasant interlude. 

“Ah,” Hux says when Ren bites at the thin skin covering his pelvic bone, rubbing most of his face along the length of Hux’s dick. “If you’re down there without intending to—”

“I don’t know how. But I want to for you,” Ren mumbles into Hux’s skin, nearly unintelligible, like he’s unsure if he wants Hux to hear his confession. “I thought about doing _this_ everyday.”

Ren is already sliding Hux’s underwear down, letting his cock bob free before he has a moment to let his brain catch up. It was always obvious Ren was sexually inexperienced. It just made sense that he would have little time or patience for such things, especially while under Snoke’s supervision. It’s another thing entirely to have it confirmed so suddenly.

It’s strange how Ren would trust him with such knowledge. Maybe it’s beyond him to consider how it might be used as a weapon.

“I don’t know if I have enough mind left to talk you through your first cock-sucking experience.”

“Like it’s hard,” Ren scoffs, completely sidestepping any embarrassment a normal person might have over this topic of conversation. “Mind my teeth. Wet slide. Suction. Start shallow.” Ren smirks at him, raises his eyebrows waiting for further instructions. ”Anything else?

“Use your hand too. Don’t— swallow,” Hux adds, swearing under his breath and feeling his cheeks color at the suggestion. He’s horrified at the roll of Ren’s eyes, dismissing him.

Ren grips Hux’s cock with his hand first and Hux guides him to apply more pressure. He squeezes too hard and Hux nearly jumps out of his skin, suddenly reminded of Ren’s strength. Ren grins wickedly, only testing the waters. His confidence is growing by the moment, which is a scary thought indeed. He must know how he looks like this, hair in clumped disarray, bruised face and warm well-formed muscles rippling for Hux’s enjoyment. Hux brushes across a scrape along his torso, and Ren’s breath hitches, but he lets Hux touch his body with exploring hands.

Ren takes to cock sucking as well as any task put before him. He’s always a fast learner, and Hux is eternally grateful for that. His face is messy with spit before long, and Hux reaches down to smooth it away from his cheeks, touches his lips stretched wide until Ren pulls back panting and sucks at Hux’s thumb, big hand still moving over his spit-slick cock.

Hux is nearly mindless with pleasure when he comes, forgets entirely about his plan to warn Ren to move away, while he’s focused on keeping his eyes open. He wants to remember Ren’s look of quiet determination to get this right. Most of his come ends up dripping from Ren’s swollen lips and chin. Ren swipes a bit of it from his cheeks, rubs the milky liquid between his fingers while he presses his lips together.

“Don’t—” Hux warns a second time, but Ren is already taking a tentative lick, but seems to reconsider.

“ _Fuck_. Come here,” Hux says, breathlessly pulling Ren to him by his arm so he doesn’t have to witness this arousing display anymore. He won’t come again for a while, but his dick is already twitching with interest.

Ren gives him a wicked curl of his mouth before trailing kisses upward from belly button and between his pectorals, rubbing his messy face into Hux’s skin as he goes—smearing sticky come, sweat, spit and a little bacta in his wake.

It’s a disgusting slide. Disorder is never something Hux’s thrived upon, but he also doesn’t want to look away, and doesn’t tell Ren to stop, convinced this is him within his element. Performing for an audience.

They kiss, sloppy and open, trading the last of Hux’s come between them, and Hux thinks about all of the things Ren has probably never done with a sexual partner, all the things Ren will want to throw himself into with abandon.

Hux slides Ren’s briefs down his thighs, and he gets them off with some maneuvering. Hux pulls him close, lets the heavy weight of his hard cock rub along Hux’s crack and balls. He’s thrumming with unused energy, keyed-up, ready to come, and so eager to be told what comes next. Hux can do little more than grab onto his arse, and let him rut while he’s sated and languid, trying to summon the energy to do more, to make this good for Ren.

“Should I fuck you now?” Ren asks, voice rumbling against Hux’s throat, earnest and unassuming enough to earn a choked groan from Hux. Yes, Hux can already tell Ren will have few limits. He just needs to be taught about the possibilities.

“No, you’re not ready for that,” Hux says, and Ren pulls away to look offended, like Hux has personally insulted his lack of experience. “ _I’m_ not ready for that,” Hux amends, being perfectly honest with himself and with Ren. They don’t have proper lube as far as Hux knows, and there’s no way he could summon the energy to walk Ren through that right now. While letting Ren fuck him open without any prep has a certain masochistic kind of appeal while his mind is so high on pleasure, Hux would likely need painkillers— or worse, from medbay afterword. Ren’s cock is not a small cock.

No, later. They have time to make it good later.

“Yes,” Ren mumbles, agreeing to a decision Hux has only voiced in his head.

Hux reaches for two more pillows, uses them to prop his head and shoulders up. “Get on your knees,” Hux commands, pulling Ren closer by the hips. Ren looks at him skeptically, like he can’t work out what might happen next, and Hux resists the urge to call him something like _sweet darling boy_ in response. Instead he just says, “You’ll like it. I promise.”

When Ren shuffles forward, Hux pulls him even closer, digging fingers into the tight muscles of his thighs before licking the head of his cock into his mouth, gets as deep as he’s comfort going before encouraging Ren to move his hips in short, shallow pulses. Ren catches on, maybe a little too fast, because he leaves Hux choking over his enthusiasm. There’s a moment while Hux is gagging, when Ren’s eyes go wide, like he’s found a new power he wasn’t aware he had, before he’s releasing Hux to find his breath again.

“So _good_ , Hux,” Ren is moaning, nudging his cock head against Hux’s lips impatiently. It’s a little early for Ren to pick up on Hux’s intense desire for praise during sex, so he masks his blissed out reaction by taking Ren’s cock even deeper, wiggles his fingers up past Ren’s balls to dig into the sensitive skin there. Ren howls with pleasure. There are a few secrets Hux will keep well guarded still, displaying them one by one as they’re needed.

Hux plans to let Ren come down his throat, to swallow neatly to show him how it’s done, but Ren invariably has other plans.

He pulls back, jacking himself with determination, and Hux threatens with, “If you come on my face—”

Which just makes him sound foolish because it’s exactly what Ren does. Hux’s mouth is still wide in surprise, but he manages to close his eyes before the first hot spash stripes his cheek and nose. Ren groans through it, body taunt and beautifully honest. Hux resigns himself to taking the rest of it, but tips his face up to keep it away from his eyes. It’s too late to protest now and he’s got a really nice view that maybe makes up for the humiliation.

“You did it to me,” Ren says when he sees Hux’s grimace while he’s reaching up to swipe at the bit of come that still made it to his eyes.

“ _That_ was an accident. Also, this is not some kind of school yard competition,” Hux voices, annoyed, but he’s also basking in the kind of satisfaction he hasn’t felt in years, so it comes out breathless and unconvincing.

“I like it,” Ren whispers, mouth hovering just over Hux’s before he dips down to tongue at Hux’s throat, trailing up over his chin until Hux catches his lip with his teeth, pulls hard until Ren seals their lips together. They’ll devour each other if it continues like this, with so much heat and intensity bubbling up between them. Hux can already feel its sharp, corrosive edge, but can’t bring himself to care either.

“I suspect you’ll like most things I show you,” Hux says once he lets Ren clean the come from his face with his thumbs, followed by a press of his mouth over each swipe. It’s startling how much care and attention he’s putting into something that should make Hux recoil and shove him away.

“I have— things to show you, too,” Ren says, and Hux suspects he’s speaking of the Force, but Hux doesn’t have the energy to make Ren explain, just nods and pulls Ren down to him for another kiss.

There’s time enough to show each other everything.

* * *

“Don’t pretend as though you haven’t thought of this exactly as much as I have.”

Ren lets out a shaky breath that floats half-frozen in the chill air. His hand is so warm when it brushes past Hux’s. Hux knows the ring is still there, doesn’t need the press of bare skin and metal to know that. Hux holds his palm open, and Ren takes it, threads their fingers together with a strong grip. They peer out toward the hive of activity below them, upon Starkiller Base, droids and sentients working to realize Hux’s life’s work.

It hardly feels real, all of it falling into place so neatly.

“This is the beginning,” Hux says and squeezes Ren’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr [here.](http://samedifference61.tumblr.com/) Quote from FOB - Hold Me Tight (or Don't) and title from Halsey - Young God.


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